


Listen to My Heart (Only with the Heart Remix

by IreneADonovan



Series: Remixes 2018 [5]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Blind Character, Canon Disabled Character, Charles Being Concerned, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles in a Wheelchair, Erik Has Feelings, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, blind!Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-04 18:51:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15153425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneADonovan/pseuds/IreneADonovan
Summary: Erik loses his sight. Charles is the neighbor who reads to him.





	Listen to My Heart (Only with the Heart Remix

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lamia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lamia/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Only with the Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12932973) by [Lamia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lamia/pseuds/Lamia). 



Charles is his world. Charles is his lifeline. Charles was there those first terrifying days after Erik returned home, his world suddenly dark and cold and empty.

He'd lost his sight in an instant, to a mugger with a baseball bat. Wood. No metal for him to sense or deflect. A blow to the back of the head. Then darkness.

Waking in the hospital to more darkness. Damage to the visual centers of his brain. Recovery unlikely. He was blind. Just like that.

His co-worker, Moira, brought him home a few days later, armed with a sheaf of papers, lists of resources for the blind, that he couldn't read because he was fucking blind. She offered to stay until he was settled, though he knew she had a wife and children waiting for her at home. He told her to go, knowing he wasn't going to be “settled” anytime soon, if ever.

So he'd wound up sitting on the couch, staring into the void, body rigid, afraid to move, for what could have been minutes, could have been hours.

Until a warm presence had brushed his mind. _Erik?_

He flinched, startled, then he remembered his neighbor was a telepath. _Charles._

_I can feel your distress. I hadn't realized you were back already. I've got your cat._

Erik realized he hadn't even thought about Izzy since he'd awakened in the hospital. _How is she?_

_Other than shedding on every available surface, including my lap, and howling every time the doorbell rings because she thinks it might be you, she's fine. Would you like me to bring her over? I think you need each other right now._

Erik hesitated. She would be a comfort to his raw nerves, yes, but it would mean trying to find his way to the front door, and he wasn't sure he could do that, not yet.

_Use your powers to unlock the door. I'll handle the rest._

Of course. He concentrated for a moment, found the reassuringly-familiar mechanism, turned the tumblers. _Done._

_I'll be over in a few minutes. I have to catch her._

Those few minutes felt like an eternity, but at last he sensed the metal of Charles' wheelchair approaching. The door swung open, and a moment later a feline missile impacted his midsection.

His hands automatically closed around her body. She let out a plaintive meow and planted her left paw on his chest. Love me.

Erik scritched under her chin, just the way she liked, and she rewarded him with a long purr.

“Why do you call her Izzy,” Charles asked.

Erik stroked her, and she arched into his touch. “Izquierda. Spanish for 'left.' She's a lefty.”

Charles laughed, then asked, “Have you eaten? Of course you haven't. How about we order a pizza?”

Erik's stomach growled in response.

“After we eat, I thought maybe I could read to you for a while. Keep you company.”

And thus it had begun.

*****

Charles became his rock, the one utterly reliable bridge between his old life and the new. Well, except for Izzy. Charles listened while he raged. Talked him down when he was lost, scared, overwhelmed. And read to him.

The reading became a nightly ritual. They would eat together, takeout most nights, or sandwiches, as Charles was fairly inept in the kitchen, though as Erik learned to use the kitchen without destroying it or himself, he began to take over sandwich duty. And they would talk. Or rather, Erik would vent.

Those first terrifying days seemed long ago. He was learning to adapt, yet many things still frustrated him, once-simple tasks now challenging. So he ranted.

And Charles would listen. Never did Charles brush him off, tell him it was okay, because Charles knew it wasn't okay, knew that what Erik was going through sucked rotten eggs.

Charles had been there. Erik had never asked how Charles had become paralyzed – it really didn't matter. All that mattered was that Charles understood, really understood.

And then Charles would read. They'd settle at opposite ends of Erik's couch, and Charles would begin. He read fiction most nights, usually something light, enough to keep the world at bay. He'd read for maybe an hour, then he'd set the book aside and they'd talk, usually about nothing – sports, politics, music, whatever.

But sometimes they'd get more serious, talk about life, their hopes, their fears. Erik mostly talked about the same things that fuelled his rants. All the frustrations and indignities of learning to navigate the world without sight. His desire to resume his career. His fears he'd never master the skills necessary to do so.

Learning braille was at the top of that list. Distinguishing those tiny dots then making sense of them seemed impossible, and he said as much to Charles more times than he could count.

“Show me,” Charles had finally said.

Exasperated, Erik had pulled his braille for beginners book out of his bag and thrust it at Charles.

“No. Show me,” Charles repeated, placing his hand in Erik's.

Erik walked him through the alphabet, numbers, and basic punctuation.

“Seems like you know more than you think.”

Erik took all of his frustrations, mentally wadded them into a ball and threw it at Charles.

The telepath winced. Good.

“That's hardly all of it. There are all sorts of contractions and special symbols, and anything printed in braille is written with those.”

“Would it help you if I learned it, too?”

Erik was startled. “You'd do that?”

“For you? Yes.”

Something was changing between them, had been for a while. What had begun as friendship had grown into deep kinship and was now blossoming into something that felt like love. No, that was love.

Erik found Charles' hands by the rings he wore, closed his own around them with barely a fumble. “Will you let me kiss you?”

“God, yes.”

His hand traced up Charles' arm and shoulder, slid behind Charles' head into silken hair, drew him forward until their lips met.

*****

Charles began leaving little braille notes for Erik, mostly to test his developing skill, but there was one that Erik kept and re-read until the dots were worn almost flat.

“I love you. Everything will be all right.”


End file.
